


Perception

by SirLadySketch



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set some years after KH3, Sora isn't as dumb as people like to write him, memories of ASOD, mishaps with hair wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: They don't look exactly the same, but there's enough of a passing resemblance that Riku sometimes fears that he'll fall into Darkness and become HIM again. Fortunately, Sora always knows what to say and do, because he's more perceptive than people give him credit for.My contribution for Soriku week, 12/11- Aftermath. Set years after KH3, established relationship
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my writing crew for reading through this and advising on edits. <3

Sora always was more perceptive than people gave him credit for.

When Riku woke up, the curtains in their room were closed, blocking out the sunlight that normally filtered through in the mornings. He’d meant to shut them last night before he collapsed into bed, but it had been an effort climbing the stairs to their room, and the task slipped from his mind at the inviting sight of Sora tucked between blankets. As it was, he’d barely managed to kick off his boots and take off his jacket before he falling face-first into the mattress, crawling over the duvet and reaching in the dark until he’d found Sora’s hand. There were half-mumbled greetings and a clumsy kiss as Sora rolled over to lope an arm over him before they both fell into sleep and dreams.

But Sora’s sleep-fogged mind remembered Riku’s winces those days after long missions away. Remembered that Riku’s eyes were always more sensitive to the light after a mission in the Realm of Darkness, and that Riku would need time to adjust before he could face the bright eyed faces of their students. Sora had woken up before Riku-- a testament to Riku’s exhaustion in and of itself -- and he’d closed the curtains before heading out for the day. Because Sora noticed and remembered things like that, and Riku loved him for it.

He smiled into his pillow and drew in the deep scent of Sora--his light, his _home_ \-- but he knew he needed to get moving. If Sora was up that meant it was passing noon, and long mission or not, he had reports to file and a debriefing to deliver to Yen Sid and the king. It meant a day of paperwork, arguably the most tedious part of a mission, but there was a satisfaction in the work, too. Besides, Sora always had a knack for showing up when he was needed most, and that meant the best part of his day was yet to come.

He stretched and rolled out of bed, massaging tender muscles and bending until joints cracked. He’d pushed too hard and he’d known it, almost relished the chance to test the limits of his strength and resolve, finishing the mission in less time than was probably wise. Sora would no doubt yell at him over dinner, chastise that they weren’t as young as they used to be, that he needed to take better care of himself. But they both knew that he pushed hard and unrelenting _because_ they weren’t getting any younger, and every moment they spent apart stretched on for an eternity.

Still, they weren’t _that_ old yet, and he had his morning routines to help ease out those aches and pains. Some meditation to start the day, perhaps, and definitely a shower. The Realm of Darkness was _cold_ ; it left an ache in your bones and a heaviness in your heart that followed you, even into the Realm of Light. Fortunately, he’d long ago discovered the best cure-all for this malais: a hot shower, a warm pot of tea, and Sora. He’d have all three in due time, although he knew he’d appreciate the latter two if he took care of the shower first.

He stripped down and stepped into the shower, turning the taps to pelt himself with water just short of scalding. By the time he’d scrubbed off the grime and sweat he was feeling more himself, if still a little tired. But he knew there’d be a pot of tea waiting for him at his desk, because Sora knew he’d need one to get through the day. Probably in a spelled teapot to keep it at _just_ the right temperature, possibly paired with snacks, maybe even a note of when he could expect company.

Ablutions completed, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, wrapping the cloth around his waist as he stepped up to the mirror. He hummed a few snatches of song as he ran fingers fingers through snarled tresses to smooth them out, considering them with a critical eye. His hair was getting long again. He’d meant to cut it before he went off on this last mission, but he’d left in a rush and had to make due with a messy braid to keep it from getting in the way. 

It fell below his shoulders now, past the point he’d grown it out during that long, lonely year when Sora slept. He’d cut it now, just to make it easier to maintain, but Sora liked to run his fingers through it, and, well, damn it all, he _liked_ getting petted. He could suffer some snarls if it meant he’d get more of Sora’s tender touches.

But the bangs were getting to be a problem. Long enough to get into his eyes and tickle his nose, but too short to pull back into his ponytail or braid. He wasn’t sure if they fell under Sora’s ‘This look really suits you’ comment, but then again, Sora wasn’t the one blowing bangs from his eyes every three seconds.

Then, he realized-- no, Sora wasn’t blowing his bangs out of his face because he sculpted them out of the way. He took a _lot_ of time messing with his hair in the morning, something Riku liked to tease him about to no end, but Sora’s hair product might be the solution to his problem-- at least for now. In another month or so his bangs would be long enough to tuck behind an ear or into his braid, but for now….

He dug through Sora’s drawer, making a mental note to ask Sora why, exactly, he had frost gems stowed in the bathroom, but pushed that thought aside when he finally found one of the little jars of magically enhanced wax Yen Sid had prepared specially. He unscrewed the lid and breathed in the concentrated scent of _Sora,_ and he smiled as he dipped fingers into the gelatinous substance. If this worked, not only would it keep his vision clear, he’d have the added bonus of getting whiffs of Sora throughout the day.

First, he tried simply grouping the spikes into a more manageable fringe, something he could look through without worrying that they’d shift out of place. The wax held true after a single pass-- Yen Sid apparently knew his art when it came to mixing up anything from potions to pomade. But they looked stupid, like he was trying to recapture his edgy look from his early teenage years. He tried separating the hair more, trying to see if that would soften the look. He even tried Sora’s tried-bit-true single sweeping spike, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to make it look natural.

Frustrated, he ran still-slicked fingers through his hair and back over his head, pushing the errant spikes of hair out of his face. If the stuff could hold Sora’s unruly mess in place, surely it would work for his bangs for a few minutes until he figured something else to try. With the errant hair out of the way, he turned his attention to yet _another_ thing he’d neglected to take care of last night.

The wound had closed, although he hadn’t managed to seal it right away, and his healing magic had never been particularly strong. He’d had to resort to using some of the surrounding darkness to hold off the attack, and he could still feel it pulsing under his skin like an oily poison running through his veins. Faint, but lingering, and just enough to remind him how easy it was to slip back into old habits when push came to shove. He needed time in the sun to burn away that temptation, time with Sora to remember why he fought so hard to do what was right.

But sometimes doing the right thing came with consequences. He winced, probing the tender ribs and purpled skin around the scab. Another scar, probably, and Sora would lecture him about taking unnecessary risks before ‘kissing it better.’ Their private ritual, performed more often than either of them would like. But it also served as a reminder that they had both pulled through to live another day, that at the end of every long and difficult battle, they had each other. After a particularly long and difficult day, sometimes he lived for those reminders.

That thought made him smile. Their little ‘ritual’ often lead to moments of intimacy-- not sex, not always, because after a long and difficult battle, one simply didn’t have the _energy_. But after the potions and healing spells, sometimes the best cure for the chaos of the day was the warm press of a body against your own, and a shared heartbeat as you lay chest to chest with the one you loved. 

He’d needed that last night.

It would be a welcome thing again tonight, too. For all his adventuring, for all the excitement of journeying to new places and helping those in need, nothing beat the return home and everything that waited for him. Returning to Sora, since _Sora_ was his home. 

He turned back to the mirror and froze, a stranger looking back.

No, not a stranger. It was _his_ face. 

All at once, thoughts of Sora were buried beneath memories and fears he’d put to bed years ago, the golden glow of eyes that were not his own staring at back at him through his reflection. He’d come so far, _so far_ , but inevitably, he would always slip back into Darkness.

Riku choked, feeling bile rise in his throat, and he half-stumbled, half-fell back a few feet, just far enough to manage vomiting in the toilet and not all over the tiled floor. There were tears in his eyes as he tasted the darkness in his teeth, felt the chill of the half-remembered voice crawl over his skin and raise goosebumps along his flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut sand braced against another wave of nausea as he tried rationalizing what he’d seen.

It was his face.

It was _His_ face.

It was _their_ face, even if he knew it wasn’t, knew _it couldn’t be him_ , but that made it even worse, because that meant he’d _become_ him, in shape if not in spirit, and who could say that he wouldn’t slip and take that final, inevitable step over the edge? No matter how many years he trained, no matter how much he fought for the light, the long tendrils of a shadow spread out behind him, reminding him of his heart’s true essence. 

_Deep down, there’s a light that never goes out._

And just like that, he could feel the panic attack begin to subside, the memory of Sora’s voice breaking through the fog of fear. Riku swallowed hard, forcing the bitter flux back down. He knew that he’d be fine in a few minutes. It’d been a long time since his last attack, although it never failed to amaze him, how, after all these years, _everything_ they’d gone through, some inconsequential thing could still fracture his resolve. Even Keyblade Masters had their moments; perhaps he’d speak with Aqua or Terra later that night. If anyone would understand, it would be them.

_It’s you, Riku._

He turned on the tap at the sink and immersed his face in the stream, washing away the sick and cleaning his mouth. He took slow, measured breaths, forcing himself to remember who he was, and where.

_It’s always been you, Riku!_

He was one of the Keyblade Masters, one of the Guardians of Light. He protected the realms from darkness and walked the long path to dawn, guiding others on their own journeys into the light. He’d fought the darkness time and time again, embraced the shadows within as a part of him, came to terms with it, and came out stronger. If he fell, he always got back up.

_I love you_.

He loved and was loved in turn by Sora, his light, his best friend, his everything. They’d fought their way through the darkness time and time again, finding their way to each other through each and every obstacle that came between them. 

His breathing came easier with each passing moment, the sickly taste of darkness finally washing away when he spit out another gulp of water. Stupid. He knew it was stupid. He’d look up and it would be his reflection, just his reflection. He kept his eyes closed, however, focusing on the scent of Sora that still filled the room.

Then sun-warmed arms slid around him, breaking the chill of the moment, and Sora hummed in satisfaction against his back.

“I was just coming in to wake you, your sleep schedule’s gonna be whack for a while.”

Riku huffed out a laugh and brought one of Sora’s hands up to his lips, kissing the rough knuckles and breathing in the scent of leather and oil. He must’ve been at the gummi garage again, following Cid’s video-called instructions in an effort to upgrade the ship. He smiled at the image of Sora’s enthusiastic and eclectic design sense.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

Sora always was more perceptive than people gave him credit for.

Riku shook his head and sighed, knowing it was pointless to resist, but still not quite willing to open his eyes. Sora was relentless though, and tugged at his side until Riku turned in his arms, facing away from the mirror. 

“I’m fine,” Riku said, trying to force a smile that came out crooked as he looked into Sora’s worried face. Sora frowned up at him, one hand shifting to run a thumb under Riku’s eye, wiping away tears. Riku wondered if his eyes were still golden, or if they’d shifted back to their normal green. Sora would know either way-- the benefit and problem with knowing each other so intimately that they could guess the other’s thoughts.

Sora just sighed. “ _Babe._ ” Riku knew that voice, and leaned into the touch even as Sora brought his other hand up to cup Riku’s face in his hands. The kiss was gentle but insistent, although Riku tried to pull away a bit.

“I was sick--”  
  
“It’s _fine--_ ”

“Sora!” Riku insisted, and Sora sighed, rocking back on his heels and stepping away. But he didn’t let Riku go. Instead, he shifted his grip on Riku’s wrist and tugged, pulling him back into the bedroom. Riku let him lead him towards the wardrobe, waiting patiently as Sora dug through their clothes until he emerged with a long, soft robe.

Then Sora’s expression hardened as he took in the new cuts and bruises for the first time, stepping in close again to gently run fingers over the tender flesh. Riku felt the cooling relief of healing magic as Sora fixed up his botched repair job, and sighed into the plush coat as Sora wrapped it around him once he was satisfied with the results. 

“Sora--” Riku started again, but Sora shook his head, ushering him over to the edge of the bed. Riku sank into the soft mattress and leaned against their headboard while Sora walked out of the room again. A moment later, he returned with a steaming cup of tea, which he pressed into Riku’s hands.

“Drink,” Sora ordered, and waited until Riku obeyed. It was sweeter than he usually drank it -- _the way Sora took his own tea_ , he realized -- but the added peppermint helped wash down the rest of the bitter taste in his mouth, and the heat drove away some of the numbness in his fingers and toes. 

While he sipped, Sora sat on the bed beside him and rested his hand and head against Riku’s shoulder, his other arm draped over his stomach in a partial hug. Riku leaned into the embrace, appreciating the additional warmth, this time spreading from his heart. They sat like that for several minutes, neither saying anything to break the silence as Riku finished the cup and set it carefully on the bedside table. With his hands free, he moved them to cover Sora’s, giving him a slight squeeze.

“Better?” Sora asked, and he nodded, resting his head on Sora’s. He breathed deep, taking in Sora’s scent and feeling the calm sink deeper into his spirit. But the smell also made him think of the Seeker’s face superimposed over his own, and he shuddered once again, leaning into Sora even more.

Sora sat up straighter and pulled Riku down against his chest in a tight hug. His heart was a steady beat that lulled Riku’s eyes closed again, basking in the quiet warmth he’d come to associate with love and comfort. With _Sora._

“You wanna talk about it?” Sora asked after a few moments, and Riku let out a shaky breath, shifting so he could tilt his head up while they spoke, but still keep one ear to Sora’s chest.

“It was a long mission,” he said, feeling the emptiness of those words. “I went too far, too fast. I was careless.” 

Sora’s fingers ran through his hair, smoothing down the spikes that triggered such a visceral response. Riku relaxed into it, feeling the tension disperse under Sora’s skilled ministrations. He knew Riku’s each and every tension point, and attacked them with confident strokes of kneading fingers. Riku melted a little more into the mattress, letting himself get lost in the sensation of Sora’s touch and scent. He was _home_ at last.

He knew the impromptu backrub was a diversionary tactic, Sora’s way of relaxing him until it was easier to talk it through. And he would, eventually. He’d be mad that it worked so well every time, but Sora only had the best intentions, and he’d always knew exactly what to say or do to help Riku find his strength again.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Sora said, answering Riku’s unstated fear. “You’ve faced the Darkness time and time again, but even when it changed your physical form, your heart remained strong. And when you need help, there are people who love you and can help you remember that.”

“I look into the mirror and see his face,” Riku mumbled into Sora’s shirt. “I know he’s gone, but….” He trailed off, but Sora understood. They’d faced him down together years ago, but that didn’t mean the memories were any less powerful. 

“You’re you,” he said instead, hugging Riku closer and knowing that was enough to keep the shadows at bay. Then he let his hand fall lower to Riku’s hip, fingers playing with the soft material of the robe.

“Wanna fool around, take your mind off things?” 

Riku snorted, craning his neck to give Sora a stern look. “Don’t you have classes you should be instructing? That’s hardly a good example to set for your students, the instructor playing hooky.”

Sora shrugged, his laughter spilling out with ease as he rolled down onto the bed, taking Riku down with him. They kissed, Sora pulling back with a grin after a moment.

“The kids will understand,” he said, and laughed again. “And if they don’t now, they will when they’re older.”

It was tempting, so tempting, and so _easy_ to let Sora take the lead. He wanted to drown in that sunshine until the Realm of Darkness was nothing more than a cold, distant nightmare from a long night. Wanted to bask in that heat and burn away memories of the cold darkness that seeped into your bones. To get lost in _Sora_ , his light, his everything, his home.

“I have paperwork,” Riku protested, looking towards the other room he used for his office. It was a weak excuse but a valid one, and as much as Sora loved him, he would be more of a hindrance than a help when it came to filling out forms. Sora gave an exasperated sigh and reached up to turn his head away.

“I missed you,” he said, and Riku knew there was no argument to that. He’d missed Sora, too. And he was right, this was probably exactly what he needed, but it was no surprise-- Sora always was more perceptive than people gave him credit for.


End file.
